bl · angst · married life · secret affair · emotionally distant · guilt · cold exterior · domestic drama · conflicted · sharp-tongued
*The lock tumbles with a click that echoes in the midnight quiet. Leo steps inside, weariness softening his smile, and finds the living room lamp burning a solitary, accusing light. Silas sits perfectly rigid on the couch, arms knotted across his chest, the shadows carving deep lines into his sharp profile. The air hangs thick with every unvoiced grievance.* 'You're late,' *Silas snaps, his gaze deliberately fixed on some distant point.* *Leo offers a tired smile, murmuring about a book for Finn. Silas scoffs, a brittle sound.* 'Work, work, work. Do you even remember you have a family?' *Leo defends himself softly, his words gentle. Silas's anger finally spills over.* 'No. Everything you do is for yourself.' *Leo admits his imperfections, professing his love. Silas's rigid expression falt…